Of Machiavelli and Dark Lords
by C. de la Fere
Summary: Snape explains the qualities of a decent ruler, gives insight into both the past and the style of action taken by the Dark Lord. Metephorical history lecture, a slightly confused Harry, and a REALLY big library. no ships, a first for me UPDATED! New persp
1. Snape's lesson

**Disclaimer:** Alana, Sardelle, and Sardelle's children are of my creation. "The Prince," and all concepts having to do with it, belong to the brilliant Nicclo Machiavelli. All of the rest belongs solely to J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Note:** I wrote this over a number of days, but once Harry enters the library, the TV was going in the background and I couldn't concentrate so I put on a set of headphones and had Renaissance Songs and Dances in my ears for the rest of the story. I think it's pretty noticeable in the story, so I thought I'd let ya know that that's what accounts for the sudden change in mood…

All of the historical information is accurate, right down to Lorenzo di Medici. Much of the history isactually taken from an essay I did awhile ago for a class on the history of the European Renaissance...

Oh, and btw, in my history of the Harry Potter world, Snape was in on the whole Voldemort killing the Potters plot… that's just a TAD important to understanding the ending I think ;)

* * *

Harry walked through one of the slightly darkened halls of Number 12 Grimmauld Place towards the house's "modest" library. In actuality, the room was filled with more books than Harry had ever seen in one room – aside from the library at Hogwarts of course - but Sirius had used the word saying that many of the more wealthy families competed with each other over the size of their libraries, and the Black family happened to only fill a "modest" room in comparison. He could only imagine the size of the Malfoy library; he laughed at the thought. It would be the only aspect of that family that he was sure Hermione would ever be jealous of.

The sudden thought and reminder of Sirius pained Harry. The memory was still deep and very real, but at least it wasn't as sharp as it had been in the weeks following that horrible night in the Department of Mysteries. Remus, Alana and Tonks had all come especially close together with Harry to help each other through the pain, and it had helped a little. Tonks – the last unmarried Black – inherited the house and all of the rest of the Black family assets, while Remus and Alana had informally taken Harry under their wings, acting almost as godparents in Sirius' stead. One was, after all, Sirius' best friend and the other, his fiancé of fourteen years.

Harry gave a slight smile at that thought; he honestly doubted that Sirius and Alana would ever have married, but an arrangement was an arrangement, even if it was made while the two involved were unknowing teenagers at school. This arrangement had, however, provided another set of guardians for Harry in case such a thing was needed. Dumbledore himself confirmed that Lily and James had named both Alana and Remus "emergency" guardians for Harry; and Harry could certainly see where they're hesitation came from. Remus Lupin was a werewolf – not exactly someone fit to care for a small child (if it had ever come to that earlier on) and Alana Snape was an auror in a family of Death Eaters, certainly someone with her hands full in both family affairs and the Ministry.

But when the time came for them to be there for Harry, neither of them faltered an inch. In fact, Alana had extended Sirius' offer of a new home away from the Dursley's to Harry not long after the night in the Ministry. She owned a home across the Atlantic, in the American State of Maine – far enough from harm, but a flu trip to safety if ever needed. Dumbledore of course didn't allow this as he would not have allowed Harry to live with Sirius, but Harry had seen it as a wonderful gesture from the new godmother.

Her reason for living so far away: well, it was actually a combined mess of numbers that forced her away years ago, and she now preferred the distance during her summers. There was the escape from the violence and memories of the war that plagued her, the ever present tension and fear that surrounded her wherever she went – many people would stand and stare at the famous auror with a mixture of both awe and unsettled fear of the times that she represented – but it was also a large part family problems. As a young girl, her family saw that she was not going to serve the Dark Lord, whether she was able to or not. Just before she announced that she was going to be an auror, her grandfather caused the entire family to disown her – this was only just weeks after her cousin, Severus, was branded. Only his sister, her other cousin, Sardelle had remained in touch with her, and relations between Alana and the rest of her family fell away into darkness and loathing. Only recently was the rift between her and Severus healing – and this, many years after he had betrayed the Dark Lord and started to serve under Dumbledore.

So it was a relative mystery to Harry why he was walking towards the library this night, having been asked to by the Professor himself, indirectly at least, for a talk in private. His first thought had been that it was Sardelle's idea. He had only met the woman once before, and that only very briefly, but he had liked her from there. She had the sense of a mediator and peacekeeper all about her, in every step and every word.

Then again, it could genuinely be the idea of one of the other two – Harry honestly had no idea. One thing was for certain – this was not going to be an everyday meeting with the Potions Master.

Harry approached the tall oak doors. They were cracked slightly – just enough to allow a thin strand of light to pour into the hallway. Pushing them open enough to allow himself through, Harry entered the library and was met with a very beautiful sight. The main chandelier that hung in the middle of the room was brilliantly alight with well over a hundred candles. A fireplace on the opposite wall was ablaze and the unsteady light danced upon thousands of books lining every wall from ground to the ceiling three stories up. A stairway extended up the walls on both sides of the door, each ascending to different heights and wrapping around the room in a balcony at the level of the top stair. Great windows were set into the wall above the fireplace and extended upwards through all of the levels of books, but now large velvet drapes hung over them, blocking out the night.

Professor Snape was standing on the ground floor, facing the wall of books with a worn and relatively thin volume open in his hands. At Harry's entrance, the man looked up slowly from his book, taking in the newcomer.

"In the fifteenth century, what we now know as Italy was only a collection of hundreds of states – each ruled by its own leader or family." His voice held no animosity, or at least it was very well hidden. It was the quiet, calm voice of a tired scholar – something that Harry had never pictured Snape as being, and yet, for some reason, it fit him well at this moment.

"The Italian Renaissance started a movement in these states to unify the cities; many people joined it, and many died for its cause." He paused here for a moment as he started moving towards one of the two armchairs by the fireplace and motioned for Harry to join him. "Nicclo Machiavelli" he said while motioning to the book in his hands "was a part of this movement; and while he was not killed, he did choose exile from his own city after pushing his cause in a way that many viewed as too hard and too adamant."

Harry only nodded. He wasn't entirely sure yet of what to make of his Professor's speech. Thus far, Harry had known only that the man knew everything there was to know about potionry and the dark arts. History, on the other hand, seemed to be something praised more by his cousin, Alana – and something that the Potions Master had seemed to have no care for whatsoever, but Snape continued.

"His action taken for his cause was to write this for the Prince of his native city of Florence:" he said as he patted the book again. "Lorenzo di Medici. Machiavelli believed that Lorenzo was the right ruler at the right time in their history to conquer or else contract with every city and state so as to become the ruler of all of Italy – fulfilling the dreams and wishes of his movement." Snape's cold, black eyes bored into Harry, trying to convey some meaning in this history lesson, but Harry didn't understand exactly why he was telling him all of this. What did muggle history over five hundred years old have to do with anything now? Of course, he dared not ask this of the Potions Master, Harry's curiosity was getting the better of him.

Snape sighed and shook his head "I am willing to venture a guess and say that you have never heard of this book, or any of these names, before."

"No sir, never." Harry answered wondering why he would have. They did not teach muggle history at Hogwarts to anyone except those taking muggle studies – and that only briefly.

"Then I shudder to think of what your mother's sister did with her collection of books." Snape tried to continue but Harry burst out at this comment. Snape knew his Aunt? He had even known his mother enough to know what books she had at home? How? He thought his mother had hated Snape… His mind flashed briefly to that scene in Snape's pensive when his mother had tried to stand up for him, but anger welled at remembering how that had turned out.

"How do you? … Why? …" He couldn't even finish his thoughts.

His Professor held up an ivory hand and spoke in the same quiet voice "Your mother and Alana were good friends, you know this, and Alana and I were also on good terms our first few years at school. Yes, I knew your mother as a friend, at least for our first years. We lost touch after that, but it is unimportant to my point at this moment."

"No, I want to know th - " Harry started, but Snape cut him off.

"Not now. Now, I would like to continue, without interruption." A glimmer of what Harry truly knew Snape as shown through in his eyes here and Harry sunk back into his chair, his mind now cluttered with thoughts and wondering if he could truly pay attention to this man now. Maybe he would go ask Alana about this after he was done here. Yes, that was the best idea; suddenly Harry couldn't wait to leave the library.

"Alana is out at the moment, she and Sardelle left for the night to do Merlin knows what for Albus." Snape said, sensing Harry's intentions. "So there is no good to be done by cutting this shorter than necessary." Harry nodded and sunk back into his armchair.

"Now, Machiavelli espoused in this book what is thought to be one of the most comprehensive, complete guides to any ruler of a monarchial or dictatorial state ever written. How educated do you think one has to be to be a successful ruler?" he asked Harry. "Successful in the sense that you succeed in ruling everyone under you effectively, not necessarily in a positive or negative manner."

"Well informed, probably, but as a ruler, wouldn't you have advisors to help you with anything you'd want?" asked Harry.

"Yes, which is why you surround yourself with other educated advisors; trustworthy advisors, however, can be hard to come by." He said that last part with a hint of…something…in his voice. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed to be almost either sorrow or melancholy. "To truly rule well, you must be extremely well educated, well read, and well informed. Trust me though, these are not the only characteristics of a decent leader, only some of the more important." He leaned foreword slightly "How well educated do you believe the Dark Lord to be?"

"Probably pretty well so." Harry answered. He had no doubt now that the 'Dark Lord' was where Snape had gotten this philosophy. "And his advisors?"

"If those the leader surrounds himself with are untrustworthy, then the leader will not want them educated, at least, not more so than him or herself." There was a slight twinkle in his eyes, "Those few that he does trust – to a certain degree at least – could probably out think most of the instructors at Hogwarts."

Harry squirmed a bit in his chair, but only for a moment. "It doesn't matter though, Professor Dumbledore can reason anything, he can make up for all of them."

"Perhaps." Severus said quietly. "But he cannot be everywhere at once. Machiavelli teaches that to defeat an enemy, you must overwhelm and overpower them. You must strike at them from many levels, on many fields at once. David might fell Goliath on one field, but the rest of the army is marching in through the unguarded door."

"Which is where you come in, right?" Harry asked tentatively. "To learn of these plans of attack an help us prepare?"

Snape took a little time before he responded. "Yes, that is my part. Do you understand now?"

"Maybe." In reality, there were many questions whirling around in Harry's mind. "Sir, why are you telling me this? I'm not even allowed in the Order."

Snape considered his words for a moment. "Then you do not understand my entire meaning. There are very few people that I have ever felt I owed an explanation to, it is never really needed. You are an exception, however, for reasons that you have obviously yet to learn. No matter now, I have done my part and you have your answer. When you find the question, it will make sense." Snape rose from his chair in one graceful movement, leaving the book on Harry's lap. He took a step away towards the door, but stopped and nearly whispered to Harry with his back still turned. "There are even fewer people in this world that I have ever owed an apology to; again, you are an exception. I offer it now, knowing that it may never be accepted."

He stared off again for the library door, leaving Harry as confused as he could probably be. He wanted to ask him so much, but didn't know how to yet. Maybe it would be easier talking to Alana later…

"Professor" he called out. Snape stopped again and this time turned around again to look at him. He looked so different than Harry knew him. His face was lined in sorrow and grief somehow, like he was reliving something that he wished only to forget forever. He didn't answer the call, but just waited for Harry to speak.

"Professor, what do you, personally, think of Machiavelli's teachings?"

Snape's eyes regained a touch of levity. "Rule through fear, he taught. Make those under you listen to your every word and command, but do not exercise any need to raise your voice: they should listen to the leader's every word as servant to master. Make them fear the consequences of disobeying rather than the rewards of loyalty, for the reward for loyalty is the lack of punishment and protection from those that do disobey."

Snape turned back around and walked gracefully out of the room, black robes billowing behind him.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, then almost laughed. That part was at least simple; maybe if he read this he would at least gain a bit of insight as to how the Potions Master conducted class, maybe even start saving his house a few points here and there.

Then the thought hit him. To know how your enemy operates is to know how to defeat them. This was so obvious, yet he hadn't thought of it before. He had always worried obscurely about Voldemort, but never considered studying him that closely. This was part of Snape's message here, and more answers would surely be found in this book; but what about the rest? About his mother? And that apology, had Snape ever apologized to anyone before? It certainly seemed rather unheard of.

Harry shook his head trying to clear it. He would have to speak to Alana when she got back, but that probably would not be for a while now, it would have to wait. In the mean time…

He opened the book and started to read, sinking further into the armchair and letting the bright fire dance upon the pages.


	2. A talk with an auror

**Disclaimer: **It still belongs to JKR...although Alana's mine, so I guess I'm making progress! ;)

**Author's Note:**

I've had questions pertaining to the historical accuracy of this story and to how Machiavelli is portrayed in this piece and would like to say that yes, although I do acknowledge that he did write more influential pieces in his time, and that yes, it has become more of a guidebook for rulers in general, he _did _write this book in exile from Florence under Lorenzo di Medici, and he _did _write this for Lorenzo believing that he could be the right leader at the right time to unify the Italian city states – a long time political goal of a rather popular political group in medieval Italy during the Italian Renaissance.

If I have lumped Machiavelli's teachings all into The Prince and overlooked his other works, my apologies. To be truthful, as much as I may know about his _teachings_, I have only technically read The Prince so I'm not well versed in his other writings; however, this story does focus on what he taught. Again, if something was not written in The Prince that he wrote later, my apologies for lumping them all together.

* * *

A day had passed since Harry's meeting with Snape in the Black family library and he had, for once in his life, actually flew through a book. Not just any book, this thing had been almost like a textbook! Needless to say, Hermione was very proud of him for it, and had immediately borrowed the text, read it in half the time, and was already trying to force her way into Order meetings so that she could start to apply some of her newly acquired knowledge. Unfortunately for her, the only thing she found herself applying any Machiavelli to was her games of wizard chess with Ron. 

"At least she SEEMS to be improving a little" admitted a rather embarrassed Ron after watching helplessly as pieces of his queen went flying in all directions.

Harry chuckled and settled back into his armchair watching the fire blaze in the old fireplace while his friends battled on over the chessboard. The peace of the room was interrupted only by the sound of shattering stone, and the consequent moan or curse from the affected side.

"Watch that language, Ron!" came the hushed yet harsh voice of Mrs. Weasley from the direction of the entrance hall, but she turned to Harry before Ron could get in a "sorry." He slunk further down into his chair as a rook went flying.

"Harry, dear" she started. "Alana just got back and told me that if you were still awake, you would probably be waiting to speak with her?" she had more asked this than told him, but either way, Harry jumped up thanking Mrs. Weasley and started off in the direction that she had come from, the book tight under his arm.

"She's in the parlor – the one with the family tree" Mrs. Weasley called after him over the triumphant yelp of joy as one of Hermione's pawns cowered and caved at the hands of a black knight.

Harry went as fast as he could without making that much sound – half the house was asleep by now and even small noises at this time of the night tended to wake old Mrs. Black's portrait. When he reached the door to the parlor, he stopped for a moment before turning the doorknob slowly.

Alana sat in a plush armchair, studying the large purple tapestry that was the Black family tree as best she could without having to get up and observe it any closer. She looked tired. Her long blonde hair hung freely over her shoulders and her sharp blue eyes were lost deep in some far away place. A blue and silver silk kimono had been draped over her black velvet nightgown and Harry could see in her poise - just sitting there with a far away look in those contemplative eyes – how closely she was related to her cousin.

Looking at Alana lost in thought, Harry was immediately reminded of Snape a few nights back: the ragged yet noble visage of the tired scholar; but, she just had something more about her. He couldn't place it (and even had he known, he would never have bought into the reason being the fact that she was of the pure blooded line of the Prince family). Perhaps it was her life lived free of conscience? Knowing that you've always only had your side to serve, and you knew that it was the right side to be on. Maybe that wore less on her than her cousin's position had on him.

Harry made a point to close the door behind him with an audible "click" and she was immediately drawn out of her reverie, the sadness in her eyes disappeared somewhat as she looked up at her informally adopted godson. She smiled slightly.

"Come in, have a seat" the auror prompted. Not needing to be told twice, Harry plopped down into an armchair that faced both her and the fireplace. "I've been told of your little history lesson with my cousin" she stated with a hint of laughter in her eyes "and let me start off by just clearing up the point that Niccolo Machiavelli was exiled from his native city by the very person that he had written that book for." She gestured at the worn volume in Harry's hands.

Harry had to chuckle at that. "In fact," she continued with the distant look back in her eyes, "that book was written during his exile from Florence. Interesting how an outcast can still be so desperately loyal to a cause that he still looks for fulfillment from the leader that banished him."

Harry had stopped laughing. He knew that these two had had a long history, but was he accusing him of something so openly?

"Of course, that's neither here nor there" Alana sighed, and relapsed back into that comfortable smile. "I suppose you've finished it by now?"

"Yeah" said Harry simply, still not knowing how to react to her last statement.

"And?" she asked.

"Well, it was certainly interesting" he said, "although I think Hermione may have gotten a little more out of it that I was able to."

"Which is quite alright," she laughed. "You at least have an understanding, it's not something that you will need to memorize or be tested on." She said with a wink.

"Heh, yeah, thank you." He paused. "Does Voldemort really follow this?"

"Yes…and no" she said. "Harry, there are three ways to study a book such as that. Some will read it once, like you have, glean a bit from between the two covers and move on to the next piece. Others will study it profusely, until the whole meaning is understood. Still others will move beyond this last stage and start to put it into practice, whether physically or theoretically. That last group of people will tend to find that nothing that has worked perfectly in theory will ever work perfectly in real life. They use books like this as a guideline, not rules set in stone."

"But he's read this. Or he knows what's in here…and he uses it, right?"

"Oh, of course he does." She sat back into her chair. "It is a stroke of genius not to be overlooked; however, it is not the only thing he has read. And quite personally, it is not my favorite book in the world."

"Well," he asked timidly, "what is?"

"To be honest, Harry, I don't really profess to follow any set rules or teachings. Yes, Machiavelli may have laid out a beautiful guide to _dictators _or _generals_," she put extra emphasis on these last two words, "but I am neither."

The auror sat foreword a little to better look straight into Harry's eyes. "I am a warrior, and a scholar. Many people do not believe that a person can be both at once, but I like to think that it is possible;" she paused "however, there is a difference between soldier and warrior. A soldier follows blindly, where a warrior knows his or her art." She looked at him meaningfully, dissuading him from interrupting with the question that she saw in his eyes. "Everyone should be their own scholar on a certain level. You must know enough to make your own decisions. Good soldiers, I am told, follow orders blindly and put all of their trust in their leader. Most 'good soldiers' have a lower level of education than their leaders because they simply don't need to think, they just do."

"Yeah, Snape went over that. He basically said that a lot of the Death Eaters are loyal, but not too bright." Harry interrupted, impatient to get on with the conversation.

_"Professor _Snape, Harry, he is still your teacher." Alana corrected with a slight sparkle in her blue eyes. "What else did he tell you on this matter?"

"He claimed that Voldemort's top advisors could out think most of the teachers at Hogwarts." Harry replied, "although I'm not sure if I believe that or not. I mean, who can outwit Professor Dumbledore? Or Professor McGonagall?"

Alana gave a chuckle. "He certainly did choose his words carefully…but then, Severus always does." She gave a sigh. "Harry, our side has its top 'advisors' per se, and surely Albus and Minerva are among them. He did not mean that the inner circle could perhaps compare knowledge of the stars with Professor Sinestra, or read tea leaves like Professor Trelawney" – Harry smirked at that – "but most of them could easily out maneuver and out fight most of the Hogwarts professors on a battle field. They are more skilled in the art of war and battle, and in their game, that is the only skill that matters. Yet they are still only soldiers."

Harry nodded as he tried to envision a shawl trailing Professor Trelawney trying to fight off a battalion of Death Eaters by frightening them all with signs of the grim.

"But again" she continued. "Before we know war, before we know battle, we must be able to step back – to observe the situation as a whole – before deciding that we are soldiers, or advisors, or thinkers or generals. You asked me what my favorite doctrine is, Harry, and I will tell you that it cannot be read anywhere. At least not yet." She pointed to her head "It's up here" and then to her chest "and in here."

He looked questioningly at her and she explained, "I am from a family of Death Eaters, Harry. My father, my uncle, my cousin even for a time all served their Dark Lord. I was never expected to act, but if I did, it was to be on their side; it was expected, and I grew up knowing that. The only time that I knew that it wasn't a path I wanted to take, was when I could become disjointed from the situation. Too look at the whole thing from afar…and know what was for me." She sat back again. "Hence, I sit before you now, an auror of the Ministry of Magic...a warrior."

"So you just…listened to what you told yourself then? But Machiavelli…"

"Oh sure, I have read him. I have read a myriad of other works on similar topics, Harry… but I have never settled to use only one. I have read them all; I drew my own conclusions, and formed my _own _path. Not followed one already set out hundreds of years ago."

Harry was silent, and Alana smiled. "Know yourself, Harry. It is as important, if not more so, than knowing your enemy." He nodded slowly.

"What about Sn…er, Professor Snape? And Voldemort then?" he asked.

"It seems to me, that my cousin is till trying to wrestle with himself in many ways. I think he has a lot to do before he can truly know who he is…and perhaps to come to terms with it all." She had again adopted her look of a tired, drawn out scholar. "Voldemort, on the other hand, knows himself very well, and as such, he is a very dangerous enemy. He understands himself, his way of life, even those of his followers and those bound to him – perhaps more than his followers know!" she sighed here again. "Watch out for him, Harry, he is a powerful force, one that can swallow anything whole. But he has the weakness of having surrounded himself with weak and mindless people. Drones and yes-men may make decent soldiers, but not true warriors."

"Would you consider any of his followers warriors?" asked Harry.

Alana thought for a moment before responding. "At one point, there was Severus; we know how that turned out though. I also believe that, were she not so unquestioning, the Lestrange woman could be an outstanding warrior – she certainly understands war better than most people I have ever known..."

"Known?" asked Harry in amazement.

"Oh sure. We all went to school, you know. Yes, I knew Bellatrix way back before Sirius and I were betrothed." Her eyes were far away. "She certainly did have potential."

"But I think" she continued "that of all of the others, the only other real warrior I can think of among Voldemort's followers was Sirius' younger brother, Regulus. I can't say why, and Sirius was always highly critical of him, but again, I saw potential there."

"He was killed by the Death Eaters, though, wasn't he?"

"Yes." She shrugged bit "Perhaps he found himself somewhere and realized that he was on the side that he wasn't meant to be on. Who knows."

She fell silent and Harry didn't feel like disturbing it. She was still partially lost in her reverie and she was starting to draw to a close…maybe this was a good time to…

"Alana?" asked Harry timidly. "A few nights ago…when Professor Snape and I talked, he said something as he left. He….he apologized to me. And he also said that he had known my mother! Why-"

"We all knew each other at school" she responded. Yes, he knew her…about as well as I knew Bellatrix…"

"He said he even knew what books she had!"

"Well, it was no secret that you mother was intelligent." replied Alana calmly. "They did, at the beginning of their Hogwarts careers, have something resembling a friendship, built over books and the like. See, your mother and I were very good friends Harry, you know this. Severus and I were also on good terms until our second or third year, and the three of us, with a few more friends, would all very frequently study together."

Harry looked a bit surprised, but he had gotten that answer, now for the bigger question. "Oh…well, what was the apology about then? Why did he do that? And why to me?"

"He didn't tell you why?" she asked, peering at him curiously.

"No, he just said that I'd probably never accept it and that I had my answer whenever I found my question." Harry looked at her desperately.

"Hmmm, well Harry…I'm sorry, but if he did not tell you why, I don't think I'm the one to tell you either. Not now at least." She was even more distant now and bore a distinctly sad continence. "You will find out sooner or later, I promise. I don't know how or when, but you will. And you will have to decide then whether to forgive or not to." She looked straight into Harry's eyes still bearing that same sadness "you need to understand yourself before making meaning of anyone else."

Harry was silent. This certainly had turned out differently than he had expected.

"Now Harry," she said, standing up slowly and ridgedly. "If you will excuse me, I have to rest. Sardelle and I have been without a decent sleep in a good few days and given our activities, we certainly are in need." She turned and started to walk out, favoring her right leg.

"Are you ok? You're limping…here, let me help you." Said Harry rushing up to take her elbow. "What were you out doing?"

She smiled. "Thank you; you are a kind soul, young Harry Potter." She removed her arm from his. "But I am fine; I will survive this as I have everything else." A slight smile lit up her face again, "unfortunately I cannot tell you exactly what we have been up to…but if you are truthfully dieing to know, I'm sure you can try to pry it our of Professor Dumbledore when he gets back" she finished with a wink.

With that Alana closed the distance between her and the door. "Good night, Harry. Sleep well."

"Good night" he answered as she left the room, and as she walked, with her dark blue silk kimono trailing behind her, the silver embroidered dragons seemed to curl up as if tucking themselves into bed.


End file.
